♡ TL: Khadija SK
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Theodore knew the church well. Thus, he guided Hazel to the back door, away from the prying eyes of the congregation.
“Shall we take a short walk?”
Theodore posed the question but didn’t wait for an answer, starting down a quiet forest path.
Hazel glanced at him without speaking.
He seemed more tense than usual. He also looked somewhat weary.
Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his skin was pale. He resembled someone who hadn’t slept, burdened by excessive thought and worry.
Hazel followed his back as he walked a step ahead, careful not to lag behind.
Theodore remained silent, and for the first time, Hazel felt the silence between them wasn’t a mere respite but had morphed into an awkward tension.
“Your Grace, where are you going?”
Unable to bear it any longer, Hazel asked. Theodore stopped and pointed ahead.
A white-painted hunters’ shelter awaited them.
“It’s a good place to talk quietly.”
When Hazel hesitated, reluctant to move easily, Theodore let out a delayed, anxious sigh.
“Ah, are you worried? I swear on the bible you’re holding, I won’t do anything to compromise your honor.”
Hazel raised her eyebrows in surprise.
She hadn’t been worried about what Theodore implied.
A proper lady might fret over things like him kissing her, touching her chest, or attempting acts forbidden before marriage.
But Hazel wasn’t concerned about that at all. Even after nearly kissing him at the masquerade!
It wasn’t because she was careless; she genuinely wasn’t worried.
She was certain he wouldn’t forcibly kiss her, and even if a situation like the ball arose again, she was determined this time to stay alert and push him away.
Her hesitation stemmed from her inability to guess what he might say.
“I trust you, Your Grace.”
Hazel looked directly into his eyes.
Reading his thoughts through those deep eyes was difficult.
“I trust you.”
With confident strides, Hazel entered the hunters’ shelter.
The shelter was equipped with a fireplace to ward off the cold, a small but sturdy bed, basic cooking tools, and a modest stove.
The cabin appeared slightly old but was generally clean.
The only striking feature was a bookshelf beside the small table, brimming with Latin books.
Hazel studied the Latin titles, silently mouthing them with just her lips.
Theodore observed her with keen focus. After a brief moment, he said:
“Sit wherever you feel comfortable, Miss Hazel.”
There were three seating options: the bed, a chair, and a sofa by the fireplace. Hazel chose the sofa.
Once she was settled, Theodore opened half the window for ventilation and pulled a chair to sit across from her.
“If you feel cold, let me know. We have plenty of firewood.”
He gestured to the stack beside the fireplace.
“Will you light the fire yourself?”
“Nothing’s stopping me. I’ll make you tea myself too.”
Theodore moved his hands as if showcasing his skill. He lit the small stove, filled a clean kettle with water, and set it over the flame.
“It seems someone uses this place.”
“I come here sometimes and use it. A servant cleans it once a week.”
“That’s why it’s so tidy.”
“Still, an elegant teahouse or a drawing room would be better, wouldn’t it?”
Soon, Theodore served her tea.
It wasn’t in a floral-patterned cup but a simple ceramic one, yet Hazel accepted it gratefully, cradling it with both hands.
“This place is nice too.”
As her lips curved into a smile, the expression spread to Theodore’s face.
“I knew you’d like it.”
Theodore waited until Hazel grew accustomed to the space and the tea’s taste before speaking:
“Miss Hazel, the reason I asked you here today…”
“Wait a moment, I have something to give you.”
Hazel set her tea aside and pulled out the papers she’d concealed between the pages of her prayer book.
The papers weren’t thick, so they fit within the book.
Of course, the book bulged like the belly of a middle-aged man who’d swallowed a whole turkey.
“Here, take this.”
Theodore instantly recognized the papers Hazel offered.
“Where did you get these?”
He asked as he took them and unfolded them.
“I found them on the ground—they fell from your carriage. By chance.”
“By chance… and naturally, you saw the contents, right?”
“Sorry.”
At Hazel’s frank apology, Theodore shook his head gently.
“I don’t blame you for looking. If I found papers on the ground, I’d check them too—if only to return them to their owner. And Miss Hazel has a remarkable curiosity, doesn’t she? It’s one of the reasons I adore you.”
“Your words put me at ease.”
His intent wasn’t solely to comfort Hazel, but Theodore didn’t deny it.
Recalling his slight surprise earlier and their last conversation, Hazel reached a conclusion.
Theodore hadn’t summoned her over the papers. That left only one possibility.
‘Has he discovered I’m the translator?’
Hazel smiled bitterly. It was time to end the charade.
“Your Grace.”
Theodore, who’d been fidgeting with the papers lost in thought, lifted his eyes.
“Let’s end our meetings here.”
Contrary to the startled reaction she’d expected, Theodore was calm.
Yet he seemed slightly troubled, scratching the edge of his brow with a finger.
“Why?”
Theodore asked.
There was clear displeasure in his tone, a note that made one instinctively tense.
Hazel sat up straight and swallowed hard. She’d prepared a speech.
It was even a clever one, rehearsed and memorized multiple times, but why couldn’t she recall a single line now?
Hazel was thrown into confusion.
“Before we end things, let’s be honest with each other. When you’re ready, tell me.”
Theodore took the cup Hazel had set aside and placed it back in her hands, as if he knew they were cold. He refilled the half-empty cup with hot tea.
“I wanted to hold your hands, but I figured you wouldn’t like that.”
Was the hot tea a substitute for his hands?
Hazel tightened her grip on the cup.
The warmth from her palms spread to every corner of her body.
She steadied her breathing.
Inhaling the scent of dust mixed with Theodore’s faint fragrance deep into her lungs, she felt a surge of confidence.
She could tell this man what he wanted to hear.
“If you have something to say, say it, Your Grace.”
But Hazel yielded the floor to Theodore.
He smiled at her calm tone.
“You’re skilled in Latin, aren’t you?”
His words were a statement.
In that moment, Hazel’s assumption solidified into certainty. Her vision darkened.
“Yes, that’s true.”
“There’s a book I love. It hasn’t been translated yet. Could you translate it for me? But I won’t give you much time. It needs to be translated in a week and published a week after that.”
“What?”
“I mean I’m commissioning you for a translation. Me, commissioning you, Miss Hazel.”
Theodore’s unexpected words completely scrambled Hazel’s thoughts.
She’d anticipated he’d mention her connection to Fabri and ask if she’d translated the books on the banned list.
She’d planned to confess and end things smoothly.
She’d even prepared an explanation that their relationship was one-sided flirtation on her part, to shield his societal reputation from harm.
But her initial assumption was wrong.
What was happening now?
Hazel set the cup aside and clutched her forehead. She fell silent for a moment, sorting her muddled thoughts.
Each time she heard Theodore calmly sipping his tea in front of her, she glanced up at him.
His face seemed oddly at ease.
‘What the hell is he thinking?’
Even the clever Hazel couldn’t fathom Theodore’s motives.
On reflection, his actions since their first meeting had been unpredictable.
Finally, she asked:
“Is this the only reason you called me here?”
“Is there need for anything else? Oh, I haven’t mentioned payment yet. I don’t know translation rates well. How much do you want?”
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